


The Tower

by brekkfast



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, angel!inej, nostalgic!kaz, starstruck!kaz, this is just a cute little thing i wanted to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brekkfast/pseuds/brekkfast
Summary: Kaz takes a break from Ketterdam and follows his heart instead of his brain for once. It leads him to an unexpected, but beautiful discovery of an angel, and himself in the process.





	The Tower

It had only meant to be a short trip, but he had found himself to travel further than intended, an unanswerable drive fueling his steps. Even though the bustling capital of Ketterdam showed that it was alive, day in day out, Kaz thought he would splatter someone against the wall if he had to see another face. So he just got up and left, leaving The Dregs to handle themselves for the day––if they couldn’t do it, they deserved to burn. He got himself a horse and rode and rode, until the horse couldn’t ride, and Kaz made the rest of the way himself. Beyond the damp lands, there was a sudden dry spot. Where all the grass was too tall and too yellow, where the air parched Kaz’s throat, where the heat made Kaz take off his gloves, no-one to see or touch. Half wading, half hobbling, Kaz got through the grass onto a dirt road, leading into a town. The sight made Kaz quirk his lips. Ugly grey wood foundations stood out like a sore thumb against the yellow, a sign which held no more paint flecks of the town name than Oomen had eyes, and the only population seemed to be tumbleweeds and dust bunnies. 

Even though he was out in the open, the silence provided an air of privacy. Privacy for Kaz to lower his shoulders and relax the grip he had on his cane. Privacy so he could close his eyes and breathe in the thick, dusty air. Privacy, so the Bastard of the Barrel could return to being Kaz Rietvield once again, for a short while––a boy who still dreamed and held onto that childhood innocence that magic really existed in the world. For a second, the collection of hard lines and razor sharp edges that marred his face and entire identity, softened. He relaxed into the chirping of crickets and gave into that little voice in him that told him to explore, as he and Jordie once had. _Go. Go see what a bunch of nothing has to offer. Make something out of nothing._

Kaz swore that he heard Jordie’s boyish laughter in the wind. _Come on Kaz, let’s see what we can find, I’m right here with you, see?_ Savouring the pain that came with the faint memory, Kaz hobbled around the abandoned houses, taking in the dusty sofas and rotting wood with marked interest. He examined each and every house, wringing his brain for more memories of Jordie and his family, back when he had a semblance of family. Every abandoned toy, kitchen, bookshelf came alive once again in Kaz’s mind. Just this once, Kaz could allow himself to relax, and to forgive. Because his memories were from before Kaz became Dirtyhands, before his mother and father stopped breathing, before he was abandoned by the one person who promised wouldn’t abandon him. 

Every building in the town was similar and held similar stories, but Kaz couldn’t help but enjoy giving into that domestic craving Ketterdam stole away from him. As the houses faded away, only the tapping of Kaz’s cane kept his thoughts company. A small, satisfied huff signalled the end of his imaginative journey, and he was about to turn back, until he saw a small tower, detached from the family of houses. The rational part of his mind told him to turn back as his shirt was beginning to stick uncomfortably on his back, but simple curiosity led him to hobble towards the tower. _For Jordie._

It was a small cobblestone tower and in the shade, was cool to the touch. There was a set of wooden doors, locked, Kaz could tell from a simple push. But there was no lock that could keep Kaz Brekker, _or_ Kaz Rietvield, out. In mere moments, Kaz was pushing into the tower, the doors creaking so loudly it felt offensive to the silence. There was a sharp coolness in the tower, and from a cursory examination, Kaz could see it was a shrine. It was a Suli shrine, and deduced that perhaps a travelling Suli tribe had set occupied this town long ago. There was all the usual things one would find in a Suli shrine––images of a crescent moon, rivers, and angels. There was also a flight of wooden stairs attached to the wall, most likely going up to the roof of the tower, nothing more. He looked around with mild appreciation but one thing concerned him. Considering that this town had been abandoned, for probably decades, it was well kept and clean. Almost as if someone had been taking care of this place.

Kaz never believed in God, or Gods for that matter. He only believed in luck and the failures of humans. He wasn’t a religious man, and only considered himself a thief and a manipulator. Even if the Gods did exist, they’d probably consider him a lost cause. And to him, that was fine. He didn’t need them.

Which made it all the more stranger to find the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, walking, no, _flowing_ down the wooden stairs, with an amused look on her face. Her deep brown skin glowed in the shade, and her gold bracelets and anklets glinted with the way she moved. Her hair was like ink, painting her back like the most valuable artwork Kaz had ever laid eyes upon, and a deep part of him ached to know what it felt like. Her dark brown eyes surveyed this crippled boy with kindness Kaz never experienced in his life. Had this mysterious woman told him to kneel, he would drop with no regrets. But even with these details, nothing enraptured him like those feathers behind her back. Wings, whiter than snow, attached to her shoulder blades and shifted with her as if it were one. _An angel. A literal angel._

“You can close your mouth before flies make a home in it,” laughed the beautiful lady.

Kaz stopped gaping like a fish and straightened his back. Forced habits kicked in and he tensed, he wouldn’t be vulnerable, not even to an angel. “Interesting,” he murmured, but he wanted to say so much more. _Stunning. Beautiful. What’s your name? Did you know you have wings behind your back?_

Even without the wings, this lady alone was proof of God’s existence. Kaz felt himself die and come alive in the same second. He suddenly became hyper aware of his bare hands. She cocked her head as if she heard every thought that flew through Kaz’s head. “Hello Kaz Rietvield, or do you prefer Brekker?”

 _I’d prefer anything if it was you who was saying it._ “Rietveld,” he heard himself saying, “I’m a Rietvield in this moment.”

She nodded as if she approved of his answer, and Kaz felt his heart thump against his ribcage harder than it had before. Was it fear? Was it lov-

“My name is Inej,” she smiled. That smile would be the only reason Kaz got up in the mornings now. 

“Inej,” he rolled the name in his mouth, and was surprised at how well it fit, how _right_ it felt to say her name. It felt like an answer. It felt like a million more questions. 

“You’ve suffered a lot, Rietveld,” and a certain knowing sadness filtered her eyes and Kaz felt an acute pain when he saw it.

“Most people would say it was suffering in advance, of who I would become.”

“Most people deserve peace, even you.”

“Peace was never an option.”

“How much I wish I could tell you, Kaz,” every time Inej said his name, Kaz felt a shiver go down his spine.

He changed the topic, “What did I do to deserve a visit from an angel? Is it my time to go? Will Ketterdam be free of its king?”

“King of unruly men whose currency is sin?”

“That’s the one.”

A small shake of Inej’s head drew Kaz’s attention to her hair and how it flowed like water over her shoulders and her wings. Kaz wondered if she could fly. Kaz wondered if she would allow him to watch her fly, as if he were an audience member watching a Suli tightrope master. Perhaps in another life, she would be the tightrope walker herself. Her voice soothed like a balm on a wound, “No Kaz Brekker, it is not your time yet. I simply couldn’t help but be curious of an inhabitant of this world I like to roam.”

“A pity for the others in the Barrel then. Here I thought the gods liked to be worshipped in high places.”

“It’s men who seek grandeur,” Inej said, “The Saints hear prayers wherever they’re spoken.”

“And answer them according to their moods?”

"What you want and what the world needs are not always in accord, Kaz. Praying and wishing are not the same thing."

Even though he had the presence of an angel, a wicked part of Kaz enjoyed the way Inej frowned slightly at his jabs. This time Kaz shook his head, “I don’t need the gods to tell me what I should be doing. I’ve done quite well on my own without their guidance.”

A pointed look from Inej had Kaz defensive, “There is no part of me that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there is no part of me that was not stronger for having been broken.” 

Inej cocked an eyebrow, “And your gloves?”

Kaz tensed his jaw, it appeared she enjoyed rankling him as much as he enjoyed jabbing at her. “A concession,” he whispered, quiet enough mortal ears couldn’t hear him.

But Inej was no mortal, nor human. And she heard it anyways.

“I’m fine,” he rasped, locking away Kaz Rietveld once more, never to see the light again. Kaz didn’t know if he was saying that to convince her, or himself.

Her eyes softened, “You’ll _be_ fine, Kaz.”

Kaz relaxed his tightened fingers on his crow head, minimal movement, but Inej caught it all the same. She stepped towards him, off the last step, and Kaz felt a flash of panic. 

But Inej didn’t step closer. Kaz couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. He chose to look out the window, embarrassed to look at her in the eyes any longer. The orange glow of the sunset painted the too-yellow grass into some semblance of a scenery. With the sun combined with the presence of an angel, wings or no, a small part of Kaz believed in magic again. “Kaz,” _how could a simple calling of his name have his heart leaping out of his chest and into his throat?_

He simply turned his head to Inej, trying to remove the expectant expression off his face. “It’s probably time for you to go back to Ketterdam.”

A wave of disappointment he refused to acknowledge washed over him. “Yes, I probably should.”

His legs felt like lead as he turned to walk, but he had to go be Kaz Brekker again. The Bastard of the Barrel. But another part of him couldn’t let go of the magic he felt today, so he gave into his pride and asked, “The Suli are known to travel,” and silence hung between them, but she was smiling as if she already knew what he was going to say, goading it out of him, “Will I see you again?”

Inej gave him a cheeky grin, “I’ll be wherever you’ll find me, Kaz. After all, didn’t you find me here?”

_Of course. It was magic that led him here. It was her._

Perhaps the world _did_ owe him something. Perhaps he could form himself into some semblance of a human for her. Just to see her smile, and laugh, and feel like Kaz Rietveld once again. 

Jesper jokingly asked Kaz if he went to church once he noticed that Kaz left Ketterdam like clockwork. “I do,” probably wasn’t the answer Jesper was expecting.


End file.
